


Two Puzzle Pieces

by saunatonttu



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-War, vague references to Dimitri's mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21858817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saunatonttu/pseuds/saunatonttu
Summary: Felix has been acting oddly around him. Dimitri begins to wonder about the reason.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 9
Kudos: 111
Collections: 2019 Dimilix Holiday Exchange





	Two Puzzle Pieces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladylapislazuli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylapislazuli/gifts).



Dimitri tries to be mindful of all his friends’ needs and wants as best as he can – he really does, but he cannot say he does a particularly good job of it most of the time. An echo from an old argument with Ingrid rings in his head at times: her words of _how dare you spit on his memory_ ever-strong and guilt-inducing despite her having forgiven him a long time ago now.

It’s difficult, as a king, to find the time to attend to his friends. It helps that most of them are in close proximity and in Fhirdiad, save for Mercedes, Sylvain, and their professor. And Felix alternates between Fhirdiad and Fraldarius: one month in the capital in exchange for another in his own territory.

Felix is due to return any day now, which is why Dimitri’s thinking about him again. As he is wont to do these days, ever since Felix’s hasty departure to Fraldarius weeks ago. He cannot help the feeling that he’s done _something_ to upset Felix once again – really, Felix has all the rights to be upset with him at any given time – and it’s been gnawing at him since Felix very decisively shut the door to his carriage and turned away from Dimitri with what looked distinctly like a face flushed from rage.

It’s been on his mind, especially since the only letters he receives from Felix over the weeks are reports on Fraldarius issues – a persisting bandit problem that only got worse during the war, and still hasn’t let up. Dimitri smiles at the subtle impatience in the letters, smiles wider when the next ones detail how Felix has effectively disbanded one such group and put the fools to good use.

Dimitri must admonish Felix later for the lack of crucial details on what this _good use_ is, but for the time being Dimitri smiles fondly at the concept of the young Duke Fraldarius effectively cleaning up his territory of criminal activity. When he’s not worrying about what he’s done to upset Felix this time, that is.

The strange thing about his memory is: the bad things stick out more than the good ones, his mind latches onto them and replays them as though intent on torturing him. Sometimes – sometimes he’s not even sure if these bad memories are real, or just something his mind has come up with to fill in the blanks. And the good memories… well. They are mostly from a very far off time, from childhood, from when his biggest concern had been impressing Glenn and earning a word of praise from the otherwise stern Fraldarius.

Most of his happy memories – that he knows are true – include Felix, in one way or another.

He knows the opposite is true for Felix.

It’s why he worries, despite asking Felix to be his advisor and Felix agreeing to take both that and his late father’s title on his shoulders. He doesn’t wish for Felix to loathe him – doesn’t wish to upset him further than what he’s already done.

(It remains a fact that without him, Felix would still have a whole family.)

As he works through council sessions and goes through new proposals for taxes and establishments, Dimitri’s thoughts sometimes slip, but he does have beloved friends helping him all the same. And, from a distance, their old professor, as well. The anxiety over Felix’s odd behaviour on the day of his departure eases with their help.

For a time, anyhow.

* * *

Sometimes Dimitri wonders, though he can’t quite bring himself to ask, why Felix has been with him through all these years since the war – and _through_ the war. He knows Felix to be a loyal person, but he’s never thought Felix as a foolish person and, he has to admit, sticking with Dimitri had come so awfully close to utter foolishness.

After Gronder Field and its consequences that still weigh on Dimitri’s mind sometimes, he had become more aware of Felix staring at him. It was discreet, but Dimitri still noticed it as he trained, Felix’s stare burning into him.

When he asked him about it, Felix would always scoff and tell him to focus on important things. He hadn’t denied it, though, and it’s been hanging in the back of Dimitri’s mind ever since, as an unfinished task would.

Why did Felix choose him, after everything?

* * *

Felix is not a man of honest words when it comes to Dimitri – well, he _is_ , but not when it is about himself. He’s painfully honest when he tells Dimitri off for placing too much importance on the wills of the dead that will and cannot return. He does not lie when he says Dimitri’s doing all right – that there have been shittier kings before him, the king regent preceding him included in Felix’s tirade particularly emphatically.

Felix deflects when Dimitri asks about his behaviour, scoffing and suggesting that Dimitri should focus on the growing pile of reports from the many nobles that have been writing to him with the rushed determination of people believing their problems were the most pressing ones.

This does not change when Felix returns, but something else has, as Felix has more than the normal amount of trouble looking him in the eye – or at his face at all. Dimitri does not comment on it the first time: the ride from Fraldarius in the cold weather must have worn him out, he thought, and so he didn’t have the strength to try.

Still, this behaviour persists, and so Dimitri’s concern flusters up anew.

He tries to remember if Felix has ever acted so strangely withdrawn around him. His memory, faulty and full of holes, comes up with nothing. At the Academy, he had barely seen Felix outside class and the occasional spar at the training grounds. Then came the five years, and the war. Not the best of time to muse over Felix’s behaviour, nor had his mind been present enough to do so.

So, Dimitri wonders and worries and doesn’t know how to ask without overstepping whatever invisible boundaries they have set up between them. As busy as his duties keep him, the worrying never quite stops being a constant undercurrent to his already strained mind. He ends up breaking quite a few quills in this state, which Dedue dutifully replaces while requesting Dimitri to take a short break.

It’s distressing, not knowing what is happening and whether it all is just another thing his mind is conjuring up. Dimitri tries his best to push it from the way of more pressing things, like increasingly passive-aggressive politics down south in former Empire lands. And Gustave’s side remarks on how he ought to have retired by now. They sound more of a joke than anything, but they distress Dimitri regardless.

He cannot… do all of this without guidance.

If only there were someone that could give him advice on Felix, too.

* * *

As much as he trusts Sylvain, personal relations are not something he wishes to discuss with him. Not after the Academy incidents that Dimitri still recalls dimly, with a lack of clarity that feels like the memories aren’t his.

So, he asks Ingrid, which – in hindsight – might not be the best choice either as she only gives him an incredulous look when before saying, ”I cannot believe you two are _still_ like that.”

”Like what?” Dimitri blinks, befuddled by the exasperation on Ingrid’s face and voice. He doesn’t offer to join her in training, and she doesn’t go back to it, opting to keep staring at Dimitri as though he’s done something exceptionally Sylvain-like or grown a second head. Dimitri hides a grimace and raises an eyebrow at her.

It only yields a weary sigh from her as she puts her sword away and waves off the squires that had been watching her since the beginning and frozen stiff at the King’s arrival. They scatter, some quicker than others.

”Your Majesty,” she says, a furrow between her brows. ”Both you and Felix’s communication skills really… well, to be frank… they’re surprisingly nonexistent for a king and his advisor. It’s rather frustrating to witness, even after all this time.”

Dimitri blinks as he belatedly offers her a towel, which she uses to wipe her face clean. ”Just talk to him, Your Majesty. It’s clear he won’t, at the rate you two are going at it.”

Her words remain on his mind long after both of them have left the castle’s training grounds behind them: Ingrid returning to her work with the recruits, and Dimitri to the reports from the reconstructions efforts in Duscur.

 _Just talk to him_.

It’s easier said than done, and Dimitri doesn’t feel quite brave enough these days when kinghood takes what little he has left of it.

* * *

There is a possible explanation for Felix’s behaviour. Dimitri doesn’t know how to feel about it, despite Dedue sounding quite reasonable when he suggested it to him. The idea isn’t loathsome, far from it, but Dimitri finds himself sceptical that after all they’ve been through, Felix would be _in love_ with him.

However, when Dedue suggests it, with a level voice and a knowing look in his eyes, Dimitri has nothing to counter him with.

He settles for observing Felix more dutifully than he has in the past few months – if not _years_ , since the end of the war – as they interact, both as old and estranged friends and as King and his Fraldarius. Shamefully, they have not had the chance to be friends as much as Dimitri would like: life is busy and duty overwhelming and greedy with Dimitri’s time.

Still, his observations yield results: the way Felix avoids even accidental eye contact when he usually doesn’t anymore; the faintly embarrassed look whenever Dimitri commended him for anything, despite Dimitri doing so fairly often; and the way Felix’s lips curl up when his guard falls off, warm and soft and closer to how little Felix used to smile than anything Dimitri has seen in a long while.

That smile makes Dimitri’s heart tremble, for it is a precious sight that he can never again take for granted. Dimitri’s heart swells at it, grows warmer, and his own smile comes unbidden, unstrained and free from any burden, unbearably fond as nostalgia takes him to their childhood.

The moment never lasts for long, for Felix is quick to catch himself and even quicker to harden himself like he needs to protect himself against Dimitri even though the war’s long since ended.

Now that he’s paying attention – he thought he did before, but perhaps he hadn’t, not as much as he should have – he can almost see where Dedue’s words are coming from.

 _Talk to him_ , Ingrid’s words echo through his mind once more, louder than any whisper from his doubts and ghosts.

* * *

It is easier said than done, as Dimitri finds most things in his life to be. But what must be done must be done, and he is done with pushing those must-be-dones aside when solving them will result in a peaceful mind and possibly peaceful nights once he gets them off his mind.

Still.

It is scarier to confront Felix now than it had been at the Academy, despite the sneers and words Felix had wielded as well as any weapon.

What if he’s wrong? What if he ruins something that was on its way to being comfortable and easy – easier than it had been in years? Dimitri’s lips dip won at these thoughts, and his heart sinks. On a worse day, he would hear Glenn snort and say _of course_ , _what makes you entitled to his attention and affection_?

 _Nothing_ , Dimitri would think and despair.

But today’s not one of those days: the ghosts don’t linger in his sight or in his ears, and his own breath comes out steady and calm. His hands don’t shake, though he is nervous and biting his lower lip as he reconsiders this one more time.

It must make quite a sight for the few servants that happen to pass by: their King in one of his more leisurely attires, looking as nervous as a man on his first hunt, hand hovering over his advisor’s door but not quite touching it yet.

It takes a few more moments before Dimitri’s knuckles rap against the door, three firm knocks echoing in the silence of this part of Castle Fhirdiad.

Felix might not even be in there, Dimitri thinks. He’s always up and about very early in the day: that much hasn’t changed since the wartimes. Perhaps he should have gone to look for him at the training grounds instead, as that’s always been one place where Felix can be found before the knights take it over.

Surprisingly, Dimitri hears a faint, vaguely disgruntled groan from the room.

Dimitri’s brow furrows. ”Felix? Are you all right in there?”

Silence, for a minute or two too long that has Dimitri wondering if he ought to break the door off its hinges to make sure Felix is alright, before the door creaks open and shows one tired-looking Felix Hugo Fraldarius.

(The middle name is _very_ important.)

”What is it?” Felix grumbles. His hair is untied, and so it falls over his shoulders, looking tousled and messy from sleep. Dimitri’s eyes linger on the waves of dark hair for a moment too long before snapping back to Felix’s expectant face.

”I – had something to discuss with you,” Dimitri says, an embarrassed smile skewed over his mouth. It is painfully awkward, what with his heart pounding like a blacksmith’s hammer. ”However, if you were sleeping, I can–”

Felix shakes his head. ”You’re already here,” he says, though narrow eyes study Dimitri suspiciously. He leans against the side of the entrance and crosses his arms. ”Whatever it is you have to say, might as well spit it out now.”

Dimitri’s face grows so horribly warm, or perhaps it’s his neck where the heat starts climbing up from. Clumsy as his efforts with anything close to romance are, he must push onward. He has done harder things in his life – harder things in the past few moons alone, though it does not feel like that now, faced with Felix.

”Felix,” he says, and he has half a mind to request entry into his advisor’s room but instead his lips work against his mind and blurt out, ”are you in love with me?”

Felix goes stiff against the doorframe and, for one horribly long moment, simply stares at Dimitri like he’s gone mad or lost his other eye now.

Dimitri cannot bring himself to say another word, and so the silence stretches on, much like the white fields expand upon Faerghan lands in winter, all-encompassing and freezing cold.

”You did not just ask me that,” Felix says after the moment passes, his brows wrinkling with his frown as he looks aside. Dimitri’s not entirely sure if he’s seeing right, but his cheeks look little brighter than usual. And somehow, it’s this little thing that convinces Dimitri of the validity of his own claim – ridiculous as it may be.

”Who in the flames just asks that out loud, without any shame?” Felix continues, voice going tight, and his posture has gone defensive now, fingers clutching at his side as though ready to pull out a dagger at any further provocation.

In the end, he doesn’t.

But he does shut the door to Dimitri’s face, and had anyone else been passing through the hallway then, they would have gasped at such a rude breach of etiquette.

Dimitri could only feel a fond smile touching his mouth, and not at all unpleasant fluttering in his stomach.

* * *

Dimitri has led a life without Felix before, for years after the Tragedy. When letting people in to see the cracks and pieces had been as terrifying as the dreams and their whispers that still haunt him.

It is not something he’d like to go back to, of course. He much prefers their tentative attempts at reconciliation than the feeling of an immeasurably long chasm between them.

He would like to think that they have reconciled – years after El stabbed him, missing his heart only by a little – and he would like to think it’s the right time to address what little remains unclear between them. But, as always, it is a little terrifying.

So he waits for Felix to approach him after the incident at his advisor’s doorstep.

He doesn’t bring it up when they deal with official business, which is as taxing as always but no one ever said making a better world would be easy or that it shouldn't exhaust the participants of its creation to the bone. Felix only addresses what needs to be, though his eyes linger thoughtfully on Dimitri when he thinks Dimitri’s not paying much attention.

It takes some time, but Felix does meet him halfway in this prolonged incident that hangs between them like cobwebs in corners the more careless servants do not clean.

How it ends up going is: they’re having late dinner, just the two of them, as Dedue has already eaten and gone back to the greenhouse after seeing that the Duke Fraldarius would be eating with Dimitri and thus, most likely, keep Dimitri safe from harm. Whatever harm could happen at a dinner table.

It is silent and pleasant, as they have gotten past the awkward silences that used to rule their companionship initially after the war when they were still each finding their own place in the world and with each other. Dimitri finds himself appreciative of these moments when both the world and his own mind are silent. They’re growing more usual, but the bad times are bad enough to make the good ones stand out like sunshine in Ethereal Moon.

Felix breaks it as he murmurs, against the rim of his cup of warm wine, ”I am, by the way.”

Dimitri’s gaze snaps to Felix, whose eyes are directed toward one of the Kingdom banners hanging on the wall and lips pressed thin.”Hm?”

Felix sighs through his nostrils, the sound long-suffering. ”In love with you, you fool.”

Dimitri puts his own cup down from his suddenly weakened fingers. ”You… are?” Then, a smile breaks through. ”I was not sure at first, but our talk made it clear to me – though I still thought I might have been reading too much into it, despite what Dedue said-”

Felix sputters at that. ” _Dedue?”_

”Oh, yes. I had my suspicions, but I suppose I only truly considered it after Dedue insinuated you might be--”

Copper brown eyes peer at him then, though they look considerably darker in the dim candlelight. Dimitri shuts up.

”Of course you would,” Felix says, a short, clipped laugh to his words. He sounds terse, but his posture relaxes with his sigh. His eyes remain sharp and they stay on Dimitri’s face. Challenging him. ”The cat’s out of the bag now, then. What do you intend to do with the answer, now that you got it, Dimitri?”

Dimitri’s throat feels dry, and so he takes a sip from his glass, the wine warm on his lips and warmer as it goes down his throat. It burns pleasantly, even if he cannot taste it.

”I,” he starts and the words slip away from his just as soon as he thinks of them. His cheeks flush, embarrassment coming easily despite him having faced much worse in his lifetime. ”I would… like to do something about it, as you say.”

Felix doesn’t look away, only raises an eyebrow expectantly, though Dimitri can see his fingers tapping at the side of his glass.

Dimitri looks down at his hands, at the empty plate in front of him. He’s used to looking people in the eye, as business mandates him to, but - ”I would like if I could make you feel as loved as you make me feel, Felix,” he says, softer than intended, but Felix’s intake of breath suggests he’s been heard well enough. ”It is… something I have been regretting, all this time. That I cannot. That perhaps I am not allowed to...”

”Who says you’re not allowed to?`” Felix’s scowl deepens when Dimitri looks up, as does the faint red on his face. ”I haven’t said anything like that.”

”Then – you would allow me to – to try?”

”I’m tired of being miserable,” Felix says, glancing away. There’s only so much honesty he can allow himself while maintaining eye contact. ”I’m tired of you being miserable, too.”

”So,” Dimitri says, his mouth twitching upwards. ”You would like to be less miserable together?”

”Ugh, that is such a strange way of putting it. Why not aim a little higher, at least?” Felix’s cheeks burn brighter now, and his gaze flickers down to his glass. ”Let’s try to be happy, Dimitri.”

Dimitri blinks away the tears that threaten to well up at such sincere serenity coming from Felix, and he reaches out his hand.

Felix meets him halfway, and raises his head to lock their gazes once more. He’s not quite smiling, but Dimitri is doing that for both of them – perhaps that softens something in Felix’s expression and has him entwine their fingers on the table for the remainder of their dinnertime.

Two puzzle pieces have finally come together and connected, it feels like.

**Author's Note:**

> My prompt for this was "Felix has been in unrequited love with Dimitri for ages, and Dimitri finally notices." I hope I did the prompt justice despite somewhat twisting it around the edges a little. Happy Holidays to ladylapislazuli and to all the other readers.


End file.
